Right Now Could Last Forever

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrelful of horned toads.

“You know why Snape’s in such a foul mood, don’t you?” Ron said to Harry and I, as we watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the frog guts from under his fingernails.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Moody.”

It was common knowledge that Snape really wanted the Dark Arts job, and he had now failed to get it for the fourth year running. Snape had disliked all of our previous Dark Arts teachers, and shown it – but he seemed strangely wary of displaying overt animosity to Mad-Eye Moody. Indeed, whenever I saw the two of them together – at mealtimes, or when they passed in the corridors – I had the distinct impression that Snape was avoiding Moody’s eye, whether magical or normal.

“I reckon Snape’s a bit scared of him, you know,” I said thoughtfully.

“Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad,” said Ron, his eyes misting over, “and bounced him all around his dungeon...”

The Gryffindor fourth-years were looking forward to Moody’s first lesson so much that we arrived early after lunch on Thursday and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung.

The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

“Been in the –“

“- library,” I finished her sentence for her. “C’mon, quick, or we won’t get decent seats.”

We hurried into four chairs right in front of the teacher’s desk, took out our copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon we heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. We could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from under his robes.

“You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.”

We returned the books to our bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled grey hair out of his twisted and scarred face and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swivelled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

“Right then,” he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, “I’ve had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you’ve had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures – you’ve covered Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grundylows, Kappas and werewolves, is that right?”

There was a general murmur of assent.

“But you’re behind – very behind – on dealing with curses,” said Moody. “So I’m here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I’ve got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark –“

“What, aren’t you staying?” Ron blurted out.

Moody’s magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled – the first time I had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless a relief to now that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.

“You’ll be Arthur Weasley’s son, eh?” Moody said. “Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago... yeah, I’m staying just the one year. Special favour to Dumbledore... one year, and then back to my quiet retirement.”

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

“So – straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it ‘til then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you’re up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen? A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that way, Miss Brown, when I’m talking.”

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody’s magical eye could see though solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

“So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron’s and Hermione’s. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

“Er,” said Ron tentatively, “my dad told me about one... is it called the Imperius curse, or something?”

“Ah, yes,” said Moody appreciatively. “Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius curse.”

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large, black spiders were scuttling around inside it. I felt Ron recoil slightly next to me – Ron hated spiders.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders and held it in the palm on his hand so that we could all see it.

He then pointed his wand at it, and muttered, “Imperio!”

The spider leapt from Moody’s hand on a fine thread of silk, and began to swing backwards and forwards as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakeably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing – everyone except Moody.

“Think it’s funny, do you?” he growled. “You’d like it, would you, if I did it to you?”

The laughter died away almost instantly.

“Total control,” said Moody quietly, as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats...”

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius curse,” said Moody, and I knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting on their own free will. The Imperius curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes really strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIFILANCE!” he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar. “Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

Hermione’s hand flew into the air again and so, to my slight surprise, did Neville’s. The only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology, which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

“Yes?” said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

“There’s one – the Cruciatus curse,” said Neville, in a small but distinct voice.
Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

“You’re name’s Longbottom?” he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further enquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

“The Cruciatus curse,” said Moody. “Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea,” he said, pointing his wand at the spider. “Engorgio!”

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretence, Ron pushed his chair backwards, as far away from Moody’s desk as possible.

Moody raised his wand again, pointing it at the spider, and muttered: “Crucio!”

At once, the spider’s legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but I was sure that if it could have given voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently –

“Stop it!” Hermione said shrilly.

I looked around at her. She was looking, not at the spider, but and Neville, and, following her gaze, I saw that Neville’s hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.

Moody raised his wand. The spider’s legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch.

“Reducio,” Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.

“Pain,” said Moody softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus curse... that one was very popular once, too.

“Right... anyone know any others?”

I looked around. From the looks on everyone’s faces, I guessed we were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Hermione’s hand shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air.

“Yes?” said Moody, looking at her.

“Avada Kedavra,” Hermione whispered.

Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.

“Ah,” said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lop-sided mouth. “Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra... the killing curse.”

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody’s finger’s, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface, but there was no escaping what was coming.

Moody raised his wand, and I felt a sudden thrill of foreboding.

“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air – instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the girls stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backwards and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded towards him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk and onto the floor.

“Not nice,” he said calmly. “Not pleasant. And there’s no counter-curse. There’s no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he’s sitting right in front of me."

Moody’s eyes (both of them) looked down into Harry’s. I didn’t look at Harry, along with everyone else, knowing it made him uncomfortable to be singled out for his scare. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose both my parents that way. My dad was still alive; even if he wasn’t the nicest person around, he was still here. But my mum...

I pulled myself back to the present, and listened to what Moody was saying.

“Avada Kadavra’s a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it – you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I’d get so much as a nose-bleed. But that doesn’t matter. I’m not here to teach you how to do it.

“Now, if there’s no counter-curse, why am I showing you? Because you’ve got to know. You’ve got to appreciate what the worst is. You don’t want to find yourself in a situation where you’re facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

“Now... those three curses – Avada Kedavra, Imperius and Cruciatus – are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That’s what you’re up against. That’s what I’ve got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practise constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills... copy this down...”

We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang – but when Moody dismissed us and we had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices – “Did you see it twitch?” “- and when he killed it – just like that!”

They were talking about the lesson, I thought, as though it had been some sort of spectacular show, but I hadn’t found it very entertaining – and nor, it seemed, had Hermione.
“Hurry up,” she said tensely to Harry, Ron and I.

“Not to the ruddy library again?” I asked.

“No,” said Hermione curtly, pointing up a side passage. “Neville.”

Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus curse.

“Neville?” I said gently.

Neville looked around.

“Oh, hello,” he said, his voice much higher than usual. “Interesting lesson, wasn’t it? I wonder what’s for dinner, I’m – I’m starving, aren’t you?”

“Neville, are you all right?” said Hermione.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Neville gabbled, in the same unnaturally high voice. “Very interesting dinner – I mean lesson – what’s for eating?”

Ron gave Harry and me a startled look.

“Neville, what –“

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind us, and we turned to see Moody limping towards us. All five of us fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was a much lower and gentler growl than we had yet heard.

“It’s all right, sonny,” he said to Neville. “Why don’t you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea...”

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke.

Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry. “You all right, are you, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

Moody’s blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry.

Then he said, “You’ve got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you’ve got to know. No point pretending... well... come on, Longbottom, I’ve got books that might interest you.”

Neville looked pleadingly at Harry, Ron, Hermione and I, but we didn’t say anything, so Neville had no choice but to allow himself to be steered away, one of Moody’s gnarled hands on his shoulder.

“What was that about?” said Ron, watching Neville and Moody turn the corner.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Some lesson, though, eh?” said Ron, as we set off for the Great Hall. “Fred and George were right, weren’t they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn’t he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffled it right –“

But Ron fell suddenly silent at the look on Harry’s face, and didn’t speak again until we reached the Great Hall, when he supposed we’d better make a start on Trelawney’s predictions tonight, as it would take hours.

Hermione didn’t join in with our conversation during dinner, but ate furiously fast, and then left for the library again. We walked back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Wouldn’t Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we’d seen the curses? Harry asked, as we approached the Fat Lady.

“Yeah, probably,” said Ron. “But Dumbledore’s always done things his way, hasn’t he, and Moody’s been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later –look at his dustbins. Balderdash.

The Fat Lady swung forwards to reveal the entrance hole, and we climbed into Gryffindor commone room, which was crowded and noisy.

“Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?” said Harry.

“I s’pose,” I groaned.

I went up to the girls’ dormitory and grabbed my copy of Unfogging the Future, and took it back down to the common room, found a table and set to work on my predictions for the coming month. The boys quickly joined me. I found it all pretty easy to understand, but the boys seemed to be having difficulty. They had made very little progress, though our table was littered with bits of parchment bearing sums and symbols.

“I haven’t got a clue what this lot’s supposed to mean,” Harry said, staring down at a long list of calculations.

“You know,” said Ron, whose hair was on end because of all the times he had run his fingers through it in frustration, “I think it’s back to the old Divination standby.”

“What – make it up?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking up from my half completed work. “I mean, I could try to explain it to you, if you want...”

“No, no,” said Ron. “We don’t want to be bored to death.”

He dipped his pen into some ink and started to write.

“Next Monday,” he said as he scribbled, “I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter.” Ron looked up at us. “You know her – just put in loads of misery, she’ll lap it up.”

“Right,” said Harry, crumpling up his first attempt and lobbing it over the heads of a group of chattering first-years into the fire. “OK... on Monday, I will be in danger of er – burns.”

“Yeah, you will be,” I said, still doing my own work, “we’re seeing the Skrewts again on Monday.”

“OK, Tuesday, I’ll... erm...” said Ron.

“Lose a treasured possession,” said Harry.

“Good one,” said Ron, copying it down. “Because of... erm... Mercury. Why don’t you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?”

“Yeah... cool...” said Harry, scribbling it down,” because... Venus is in the twelfth house.”

“And on Wednesday, I think I’ll come off worst in a fight.”

“Aaah, I was going to have a fight. OK, I’ll lose a bet.”

“Yeah, you’ll be betting I’ll win my fight...”

“Boys,” I muttered, still doing my homework properly.

After another hour, I had finished, while the boys were still coming up with predictions. The common room around us slowly emptied as people went up to bed. Crookshanks wandered over to us, leapt lightly into an empty chair, and stared inscrutably at Harry, rather as Hermione might look if she knew they weren’t doing their homework properly.

Fred and George were sitting together against the opposite wall, heads together, quills out, poring over a single piece of parchment. It was most unusual to see Fred and George hidden away in a corner and working silently; they usually liked to be in the thick of things, and the noisy centre of attention. I knew exactly what they were doing; and it wasn’t anything to do with Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, or the Triwizard Tournament; other whys they would’ve waited for me to join them.

I noticed Harry watching them, too. George shook his head at Fred, scratched something out with his quill and said, in a very quiet voice that nevertheless carried across the almost deserted room, “No – that sounds like we’re accusing him. Got to be careful...”

Then George looked over and saw us watching him. Harry quickly returned to his predictions, but I stood up and walked over to them.

“Are you two having some trouble with that letter?” I said quietly enough for Harry and Ron not to hear.

“Yeah,” said George. “We could sure use your excellent writing talents.”

“Not to mention brilliant social skills,” said Fred.

“All right, pass it here,” I said.

I quickly finished their letter for them, and they rolled up their parchment, said thanks and goodnight and went off to bed.

They had been gone ten minutes or so when the portrait hole opened and Hermione climbed into the common room, carrying a sheaf of parchment in one hand and a box whose content rattled as she walked, in the other. Crookshanks arched his back, purrig.

“Hello,” she said, “I’ve just finished!”

“So have I!” said Ron triumphantly, throwing down his quill.

Hermione sat down, laid the things she was carrying in an empty armchair and pulled Ron’s predictions towards her.

“Not going to have a very good month, are you?” she said, sardonically, as Crookshanks curled up in her lap.

“Ah well, at least I’m forewarned,” Ron yawned.

“You seem to be drowning twice,” said Hermione.

“Oh, am I?” said Ron, peering down at his predictions. “I’d better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit obvious you’ve made these up?” I said.

“How dare you!” said Ron, in mock outrage. “We’ve been working like house-elves here!”
Hermione raised her eyebrows.

“It’s just an expression,” said Ron hastily.

“What’s in the box?” I asked, pointing at it.

“Funny you should ask,” said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid, and showed us the contents.

Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colours, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

“’Spew’?” I said, picking up a badge and looking at it. “What’s this about?”

“Not spew,” said Hermione impatiently. “It’s S – P – E –W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare.”

“Never heard of it,” said Ron.

“Well, of course you haven’t,” said Hermione briskly, “I’ve only just started it.”

“Yeah?” said Ron in mild surprise. “How many members have you got?”

“Well – if you three join – four,” said Hermione.

“And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying “Spew”, do you?” said Ron.

“S – P – E – W!” said Hermione hotly. “I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status – but it wouldn’t fit. So that’s the heading of our manifesto.”

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at us. “I’ve been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement does back centuries. I can’t believe no one’s done anything about it before now.”

“Hermione – open your ears,” said Ron loudly. “They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!”

“Our short-term aims,” said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn’t heard a word, “are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand-use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they’re shockingly under-represented.”

“And how do we do all this?” I asked.

“We start by recruiting members,” said Hermione happily. “I thought two Sickles to join – that bys a badge – and the proceeds can fund out leaflet campaign. You’re treasurer, Ron – I’ve got you a collecting tin upstairs – and Harry, you’re secretary, so you might want to write down everything I’m saying now, as a record of our first meeting. And Corey, you’re co-president.”

There was a pause in which Hermione beamed at us, and I sat, torn between exasperation at Hermione and amusement at the look on Ron’s face. The silence was broken, not by Ron, who in any case looked as though he was temporarily dumbstruck, but by a soft tap, tap on the window. I looked across the now empty common-room, and saw, illuminated by the moonlight, a snowy owl perched on the window-sill.

“Hedwig!” Harry shouted, and he launched himself out of his chair and across the room to pull open the window.

Hedwig flew inside, soaring across the room and landed on the table on top of Harry’s predictions.

“About time!” said Harry, hurrying after her.

“She’s got an answer!” I said excitedly, pointing at the grubby piece of parchment tied to Hedwig’s leg.

Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read it, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

“What does it say?” I asked breathlessly.

Harry read aloud:

“Harry -
I’m flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumours that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore – they’re saying he’s got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he’s reading the signs, even if no one else is.
I’ll be in touch soon. My best to Ron, Corey and Hermione. Keep your eyes open Harry.
Sirius”

Harry looked up at us, and we stared back at him.

“He’s flying north?” I whispered. “He’s coming back?”

“Dumbledore’s reading the signs?” said Ron, looking perplexed. “Harry – what’s up?”

For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

“I shouldn’t’ve told him!” Harry said furiously.

“What are you on about?” I said, in surprise.

“It’s made him think he’s got to come back!” said Harry, not slamming his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back of my chair, hooting indignantly. “Coming back, because he thinks I’m in trouble! And there’s nothing wrong with me! And I haven’t got anything for you,” Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, “you’ll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.

“Harry, Hermione began, in a pacifying sort of voice.

“I’m going to bed,” said Harry shortly. “See you in the morning.”

He stood up and walked the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, leaving Hermione, Ron and I looking blankly at each other.